


We Fight, We Survive

by FullPower



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gore, Implied Past Abuse, What-If, meth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4462028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullPower/pseuds/FullPower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane Walsh was your prototypical small town southern cop with a love of women, beer, and football, but his normal life changes when he's shot in the line of duty. Some time later, Shane wakes up to find out the world he knew was gone, replaced by one filled with flesh-eating monsters and humans who are too far gone. </p><p>AU of TWD season one where Shane is shot instead of Rick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Days Gone Bye

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here we go. We ready?
> 
> The main theme of this fic, as you've no doubt realized by the summary, is that this is an AU of TWD where Shane is shot in 1x1 instead of Rick, which then changes everything...aside from, you know, the fact the dead are walking around. Any feedback you want to give, whether it's kudos or criticism, please do. ;)
> 
> Chapter one disclaimer that goes for the fic: I don't own anything copyrighted by AMC, Robert Kirkman, Skybound, etc. All I own is a creative mind that I'll use to do a 're-write' of TWD using what we've been given and more. Support the official release of The Walking Dead!

"What's the difference between men and women?"

"This a joke?"

"No, I'm serious."

"I never met a woman who knew how to turn off a light. They're both thinking the switch only goes one way – on."

Such was a typical conversation between Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh, best friends and partners for the King County police department. As the two sat in their parked police cruiser, munching on burgers and fries that Shane had gladly picked up earlier, neither of the two paid much attention to the quiet scanner. All was easy today, like all the criminals out there took some time to enjoy the surprisingly-cool summer weather.

"They're struck blind the second they leave a room. I mean every woman I ever let have a key – I swear to God, it's like I come home, house all lit up," Shane remarked, quietly chuckling to himself. While Rick grabbed more french fries from the bag, his partner absent mindedly, but rigidly, touched the #22 necklace he wore daily as a reminder of his high school football days.

"And my job, you see, apparently – because my chromosomes happen to be different – is I then gotta walk through that house, turn off every single light this chick left on."

"Is that right?" Rick asked, savoring the taste of the french fries while his partner spoke about nonsense. Though the clean-shaven Sherrif's Deputy wouldn't quite admit it out loud, his focus was more on the french fries than Shane's typical women rant.

"Yeah, baby. Mmm. Oh, Reverend Shane's a-preaching to ya now, boy."

Both men reared their heads back and laughed, enjoying the other's presence on what was an otherwise boring day. Normally, it seemed like the summer was when crime was most rampant in small towns like King County, but the past few days were easy, child's play even. Hell, the most they'd done today was pull over a car going 55 in a 40, and even then, it was just one of those student drivers taking their parent's car for a spin.

"Then – the same chick mind you she'll bitch about global warming," Shane continued, clearly enjoying where this conversation was headed. The charming smirk that Rick had been used to seeing on Shane face for years quickly appeared on the other man's features.

"You see, this is – this is when Reverend Shane wants to quote from the Guy Gospel and say, 'Um, darling, maybe you and every other pair of boobs on this planet just figure out the light switch, you see, goes both ways maybe we wouldn't have so much global warming.'"

"You say that?" Rick asked in disbelief.

"Mmm. Yeah, well, a polite version," Shane snickered to himself. "Still, man that, that earns me this look of loathing you would not believe. And that's when the Exorcist voice pops out. 'You sound just like my damn father!' Always—always yelling about the power bill, telling me to turn off the damn lights!"

Rick fought off a smile. "And what do you say to that?"

Shane, on the other hand, let his smile visibly grow to massive proportions. "I know what I want to say. I want to say, "Bitch, you mean to tell me you've been hearing this your entire life and you are still too damn stupid to learn how to turn off a switch?"

Both men exploded in laughter, dropping the crisp, yellow fries to the floor of the cop car. The best part of easy days like this? Rick and Shane could fully forgo the good cop, bad cop personas (respectively, of course -- Rick Grimes could never play the bad cop) they adopted for their job and enjoy the time they spent together. Sure, Shane would've loved to knock some heads together, but he'd take this over filing paperwork back at the station.

"Well. So how's it with Lori, man?"

"She's good. She's good at turning off lights," remarked Rick, slightly reddening at the sudden change of topic. Inside, Rick had a feeling that the conversation would eventually shift to the beautiful, but often...well, 99 percent of the time...unfair, wife of his. "Really good. I'm the one who sometimes forgets."

"Not what I meant," Shane replied, hoping he wouldn't have to push Rick to get the answers out of him. Both Georgia born men knew how annoying Shane could get when he wanted something, hence was part of the reason he was so successful with women.

Rick sighed, pushing his hand through his chestnut-colored hair. Like it or not, Shane was probably the cop's best option of letting his feelings out and not bottling them up inside of him. "We didn't have a great night."

"Hey look, man, I may have failed to amuse with my sermon, but I did try," Shane said, smirking. "The least you can do is is speak!"

Unbeknownst to Shane, that was exactly what was so heavy on his best friend's mind. "That's - that's what she always says. 'Speak. Speak.' You'd think I was the most closed-mouthed son of a bitch ever to hear her tell it," Rick muttered angrily, not noticing his knuckles turning a light shade of blue.

Shane mockingly placed his hand underneath his chin, almost as if to show he was deep in contemplation. "Well, Rick, do you express your thoughts? Do you share your feelings, that kind of stuff?

"Thing is lately, whenever I try, everything I say makes her impatient, like she didn't want to hear it after all." Rick sighed, his eyes gravitating to the clear sky above. "It's like she's pissed at me all the time and I don't know why."

"Look, man. That's just shit couples go through," Shane remarked, tightly clasping his hand on Rick's shoulder. "Yeah, it's a phase."

Rick continued to frown, troubled by his relationship problems. Rick Grimes wasn't a perfect man - he'd never met someone who was, either - but even he knew his wife's expectations of him as a husband, and a father, were insanely unrealistic. Rick, I need you to pick up groceries after work, Lori would tell him one morning. Lori, I gotta work the late shift with Shane, we're covering for Leon since he's going to his brother's wedding. Rick, then how are we going to eat?

Or she'd say, talk to Carl and tell him about your job. Oh, you told him about how you had to arrest a drunken man with a gun? Well, yeah, I figured he didn't need to know about Shane and I stopping at Chick-Fill-A on the way home. Rick, you shouldn't scare him like that!

"It's the last thing she said this morning that set me off. She...she tells me 'Sometimes I wonder if you even care about us at all.' She said that in front of our kid."

 _Poor kid_ , Shane thought, knowing all too well how tough it could be for children seeing their parents fight. Off the top of his head, Shane could recount multiple times within the past two months alone where he'd been called into a domestic abuse situation and seen a small child watching it all with wide, hurt, eyes.

"Imagine going to school with that in your head. The difference between men and women? I would never say something that cruel to her and certainly not in front of Carl," Rick admitted, fighting the urge to let tears stream out of his cerulean eyes. No, Rick wasn't going to cry right now, even if he trusted Shane with his life.

Before Shane had a chance to reply, the sound of the radio beeping drew the attention of both officers: "All available units, high-speed pursuit in progress. Linden County units request local assistance. Highway 18 eastbound. GTA, ADW, 2-17, 2-4-3. Advise extreme caution."

"Advise extreme caution? We out," Shane exclaimed, slam dunking the bag of their meal into a nearby trash can. Having earned a 'nod of approval' from his longtime partner, Rick put his foot on the gas pedal like his life depended on it, tires squealing loudly as the two prepared to apprehend the foolish criminals.

* * *

"Suspects are two male Caucasians. Be advised they have fired upon police officers. One Linden County officer is wounded," the King County dispatcher's voice loudly sounded, even with Shane and Rick both outside of the car laying a spike strip down. "Unit 1, unit 3, to eastbound Route 18, two miles west of Interstate 85. Will patch in Linden County Sheriff radio."

"Roger that. We're five minutes south of the Route 18 intersection," another voice said, this time as the two officers reversed their car into a blocking position. "10-9 we just got word from Linden County that they're off 18, now southbound."

"This'll be fun," Shane said, taking off the ballcap he was accustomed to donning when on duty. Even with Shane's joking tone, it was unclear to Rick who his partner was directing the statement towards - himself, or Rick.

Lam Kendal, one of the older cops that Shane and Rick knew, kneeled and cocked his gun, positioning himself next to Rick and Shane with a frown on his heavy face. "Sounds like they chasing those idiots up and down every back road we've got."

"Maybe we'll get on one of them video shows, you know?" Deputy Leon Bassett, a mustached man, hopefully stated. It was a common dream in small areas like King's County to earn fame and glory, although officers like Bassett may have taken that wish too seriously. "Like 'World's Scariest Police Chases.' What do you think?

"What I think, Leon," Rick replied, currently wanting to hear none of Bassett's stupidity, "is you need to stay focused. Make sure you've got a round in the chamber and your safety off."

With the sounds of sirens getting closer, Leon mumbled something under his breath - presumably a curse or two directed at Rick - and cocked his gun. "Would be kinda cool, getting on one of them shows," Shane admitted, thinking of the women flocking to him solely because they saw him on television. Considering how many women wanted to be with Shane because of his role in law enforcement, not to mention his muscular frame, perhaps it wasn't as ridiculous a dream as it sounded.

Rick shook his head, pretending he hadn't heard Shane's nonsense. The sound of police sirens in the distance could be heard growing closer, causing Rick to quickly grab his Colt Python pistol. _Let's get this son of a bitch and go home_ , Rick thought to himself, in no mood for a long, violent shootout. 

The car that they'd all been hearing so much about, a silver Buick GTO, came into view accelerating at top speed. Behind the two door car were two Linden County police cars, both in high pursuit of the criminals. Whoever the law offenders were, they were damn good at driving.

Shane wasn't going to say anything out loud about it, but he was impressed at the way these drivers could handle themselves against Linden County officers, some of whom were notorious for their driving skills.  _Maybe Vin Diesel should get 'em in the next Fast and Furious movie, the way they're driving. Shit, Brian wouldn't stand a chance if he went up against these dudes._

Alas, all good things must come to an end. The muscle car was oblivious to the spikes on the ground below, and continued to accelerate in hopes they could get past the cops. Not seeing the trap, the Buick blew its tires along on the spikes, then started a loud skidding along the barren road.

Rick thought he could hear the screams from the criminals, although he wasn't sure; the car then flipped end over end, a horrific sight for the on duty officers. The Linden County police cars, seeing the Buick's accident, sharply applied the brakes, causing both cars to stop short.

The Buick, however, wasn't as lucky. Its engine sputtering like a man choking to death, the car rolled to a stop in the nearest field, toppled over and in no shape to drive. Smoke started rising from the engine, and the hard part, the chase, was over.

The scene was silent, the cops observing the damage and each asking themselves about what was next. "Holy shit," Shane voiced, watching the smoke keep rising into the blue sky. "

"Keep an eye on that car," Rick ordered, maintaining his aim on the crashed vehicle in question. The Buick was in awful shape, but there was no telling yet if anyone survived the accident; judging by the velocity of the car and the way it landed, Rick assumed that if anyone was alive, they weren't in any condition to fight back -- the injuries would probably be too severe, based off accidents of a similar manner. "Dispatch said there were two guys in there, and we don't know if the accident took 'em out. Slowly, walk over, but don't run. Anything that's not slow walking could alert them."

Not even five steps into their trek, something moved from the car. "Gun! Gun!" Leon yelled, alerting the officers who had yet to see the first criminal draw his SIG-Sauer P228 pistol. An older, Hispanic, wild-haired man had crawled out of the broken vehicle and drew his weapon, ready to take revenge on the police who had interfered with his crew and their heist of a small-town gas station.

With the loud BANG! sounds that guns were prone to making echoing across the area, numerous shots came their way, all courtesy of the criminal in question. As he squared his Colt Python with the criminal, Rick bit his lip. The officers had to stop the offenders before someone was hurt...or killed. "Put it down! Put the gun down!"

BANG! A gunshot, aimed for one of the on duty officers, quickly shattered the back window on Rick and Shane's cruiser. "You're gonna owe us the repairs on that, asshole!" Shane remarked, raising his Mossberg shotgun and firing a couple shots at the crazy-haired man.

Despite the distance, Shane could still hear their target yell something, or was it laughter? Whatever it was, just the audacity and idiocy of the criminal was enough to piss Shane off. When another shot hit Shane's car, this time blowing part of the windshield away, multiple officers fired their weapons at once.

Rick's Python was the gun that did the job, nailing the criminal in his chest and blowing him to the ground. As the Linden County officers stared at the downed shooter, relieved that he'd been taken care of, the King's County officers gave their attention to Rick.

"Woo! Way to go, Rick!" Shane complimented, impressed with his partner's shot. "Got that son of a bitch!"

Rick breathed heavily, the fact he had just taken a life still hitting him. This wasn't the first time Rick Grimes had been forced to end a criminal's life, but it didn't change the fact that it was still a tough feeling to get used to. They were bad people, sure, but they were people; maybe they had a family, or someone back home that cared about them and wanted to create a criminal-free life for everyone. "Wait, didn't dispatch say there were two?"

BANG! BANG!

The second criminal, while Rick and Shane were talking, had raised a shotgun of his own and fired it at the cruiser protecting Leon and Lam. Shells rained on the car, nearly hitting both officers and shredding their shirts to rags. Wearing a grey cap, the man looked like a wild man from a horror movie, with the blood splattered across his jaw and neck and the look of angry, hateful fury in his brown eyes.

"That's the driver!" one of the Linden County officers exclaimed, avoiding a shotgun pellet. "Get the driver!"

Suddenly, Linden County's finest recoiled, a bullet having hit him in the vest. "I'm gettin' tired of these assholes," remarked Shane, cocking his shotgun and shooting at the hat-wearing criminal. "Tryna' kill us, huh? You ain't taking any lives today, motherfucker!"

Whoever this man was, he was making a major mistake fighting several armed, veteran officers of the law. Officer Kendal, not normally known for his firearms precision, landed a clear shot into the man's shoulder, then to his knee. "That should put him outta commission," Lam told the others, watching the shooter lay still on the ground, blood seeping onto the green grass.

"Hey, we good, we're good," Shane said, setting down his shotgun on the hood of a cop car. "Lam, what ya think we should do with that guy? Damn, you got him good. Mighta' made it so he won't be walking."

"Give it a couple minutes," Leon advised, turning away from the scene. His ambition to be on TV aside, mustached cop was grateful that no one had been injured, or even killed, today. Leon had seen too many police wounded in action recently, and he'd be damned if he let one more get hurt. "Between the car crash and the gun shots, there's no way anyone could survive something like-"

BANG!

"What the?" Shane started to say, before he felt something enter his body, passing right through the armor he had on beneath his clothing; the pain was immediate, and it didn't take a rocket scientist for NASA to figure out what had just happened -- Shane Walsh had been shot. The officer was panicked, trying to even form a coherent thought, but the only thing in his mind was the pain, the unexplainable pain from a bullet. 

Unknown to the officers, who believed that today's events were all but over, a third criminal had crawled out of the toppled car. Whoever was on dispatch had messed up; there weren't two criminals in the car, but three. The third was a younger man, attired in a sleeveless shirt and a bandanna, who'd raised his .45 caliber pistol and aimed at Shane.

Oblivious to the fact there was another criminal even alive, Shane had let his guard down and had taken his eyes off of the birdie. As a result, the hidden shooter was able to aim for Shane's cranium, although the shot missed and instead landed in his shoulder. _Doesn't matter to me_ , the criminal told himself. _If he got a vest, it's not gonna work there_.

As the bullet passed through Shane's shoulder, it did indeed miss his vest. Regardless, not hitting the vest was enough to sap Shane of his energy, and bring the man to his knees.

"SHANE!" Rick screamed, diving to the ground below to help his partner. Crimson blood, a sight Rick loathed seeing, had already started seeping through Shane's cream colored police jacket. Rick couldn't let Shane die, not after all that they'd been through. The two were brothers after all, and brothers didn't let one another die. The remaining officers all shot at once, ripping the third criminal's internal organs to shreds.

"Rick, how's he doing!" Lam asked, worried for the health of his fellow officer. Like Leon, Lam wasn't in the mood to see a police die, especially one as good as Shane Walsh.

Much to Rick's anger and horror, Shane's pale skin was quickly lightening by the second. "No No no no no no no. Shh shh shh shh. No no no no no no no no. He's hit!" Rick cried, loudly. "Leon! You get that ambulance down here! You tell them there's an officer down!"

Leon looked over at his fellow officers, worry spreading on his face. "Uh, alright. Just gimme a-"

"You do it now!" ordered Rick, loud enough to the point where Leon quickly scurried over to his own squad car. If not for how dire the situation was, perhaps Rick would've chuckled at the waddling of the sweating officer.

"Okay, shh shh shh shh. I'm here. Hey, you look at me," Rick told Shane, knowing inside that his best friend wouldn't be able to give much of a response. "You stay with me. You hear me? Shh shh shh. Okay. I'm right here, Shane. Stay with me. You hear me? Shh shh. That's it. Do you hear me? Shh shh shh. Okay. I'm right here with you. Stay with me."

"Dispatch, we have an officer down," Leon yelled into the radio, keeping an eye on the fallen Shane. "Request paramedics please respond. Highway 18 four miles west of I-85. Repeat, officer down. Request immediate response."

"Shh, that's it, I'm right here," Rick whispered, holding his head close to Shane's. "I'm right here buddy. I'm right here…"

* * *

"Hey bud. We're still here. We're still hanging in...ah, I'm sorry, man. I know I say the same crap every time I come in here, but you know how it is," Rick said, sadly sighing to himself at the silence he received. It had been like this for over a week now, and it was starting to drain on Rick. The two were not just friends and partners, but brothers to the point where Rick really was the only family Shane had left.

After a brief pause, the sheriff's deputy reached behind his back and pulled out a bouquet of flowers. "Everybody pitched in on these. They uh, they wanted me to bring 'em down. They send their love, and they just – they hope you come back real soon. We all miss you, man. Lori, well, she felt awful when she heard the news and she wants you to get better. Carl sends his best too; he keeps asking when he'll be able to see Uncle Shane!"

Rick paused to chuckle, although the slight display of happiness quickly disappeared. The only noise in the room other than Rick's breathing was the sound of Shane's machine, desperately fighting to keep the police officer alive. "I'm gonna set these flowers on this side table, man. I'll, uh, I'll see you soon."

"Hah, you tell Carl that uncle Shane'll be home real soon," Shane replied, emphasizing the last part of that statement. As the officer's eyes slowly fluttered open, he took note of his surroundings - a quiet, empty, hospital room.

"Huh, guess that gun shot got me pretty good if it was enough to land me here," murmured Shane, feeling the pull of an IV and the presence of a cannula in his nose once he moved to get up from the bed. Much to the man's confusion, his partner was nowhere to be found despite just speaking to him.

"Damn. Hey, Rick, you pissing in the john or what?" Shane called, but didn't get a response. The silence of the room, along with Rick's mysterious absence, made the room feel eerie, like something from one of those post-apocalyptic novels. 

"What the hell is this?" Shane asked himself, straining to get up from the bed. While this hadn't been the first time Shane had ended up in Harrison Memorial Hospital - being an officer of the law meant an occasional visit to get patched up or to visit an injured colleague - there was something much more different about this visit.

The clock on the wall was stopped at 2:17:37, with seemingly no plans on continuing the cycle of time. Shane had his suspicions that the clock hadn't stopped recently though, as it looked to be late morning outside of his hospital room.

Speaking of outside, what really perplexed Shane was the silence. Harrison Memorial Hospital was not only right off a main road, but it was a hospital. When were hospitals ever silent? The quietest Shane had ever heard a hospital was in the middle of a peaceful fall night, but on what he assumed to be a midsummer day? It should've been loud as all hell, with the young complaining about their next meal or turning up the air conditioning, while the elderly called out for aides and days gone by.

It was almost as if the world had stopped entirely, and it unnerved Shane; he wasn't in control, couldn't figure out what had made Harrison Memorial into a near graveyard and why Rick wouldn't respond him. Rolling over to the left side of his bed, Shane finally noticed the flowers Rick had brought him...but instead of the vibrant and fresh state they'd been in upon delivery, they had died out, reduced to a dry shell of what they once were.

 _Didn't Rick just drop these off? Shit, maybe I've been asleep longer than I thought I was_ , Shane wondered to himself, his blood running cold once the memories of the shootout returned. The feeling of a bullet just missing his jugular, then going straight through his shoulder, was one Shane Walsh never wanted to relive again; that, and the feeling of uselessness as he lay on the ground quickly falling unconscious. _I still can't believe I let myself nearly get killed. I hope Rick took those fuckers out though, nice and slow. Make them assholes understand how dumb they were._

Grunting, Shane quickly shook his head, making somewhat of an attempt to forget about that fateful day. For now, Shane just wanted to get the hell out of Harrison Memorial and go home, crack open a beer, and see if the Atlanta Falcons were on. "Nurse!" the officer yelled, holding out some sort of hope he'd have the beautiful Patty Taylor as his nurse.

 _Sometimes, I kinda regret not makin' more of a move on her and taking things seriously, but that's the kinda shit that happens once high school ends_ , Shane reminisced, slowly smiling at the thought of his blonde-haired ex-girlfriend. Currently, the dark haired man would have to worry about getting the hell out of here, which seemed to be trouble with a nurse nowhere in sight. "Hello? Nurse, mind giving me a hand?"

Again, no response. "What the fuck?" Shane angrily asked, more so to himself than the nurse, or lack thereof. Trying again to make his way off the bed, the dark haired cop ended up falling off the bed onto the cold floor below.

"Nurse! Hey, Nurse, you wanna help me out and make sure all's good?" Shane yelled at the top of his lungs, dragging himself to his feet. "No? Fine! I don't need ya'll! Keep checking your damn Facebook games, jackasses."

If no one was going to help him, then Shane would just have to do things on his own for the time being. "I gotta find Rick, and find out what the fuck is goin' on," the injured officer told himself, making his way to the bathroom. "There's something so wrong about all of this...I bet Rick'll know what happened."

Shane Walsh rarely felt any sort of fear, but the distress coursing through the officer's veins was completely justified. As the brave officer walked for the first time in, unbeknownst to him, several weeks, Shane slowly prepared for whatever was to come.


	2. A New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope those of you who tuned into AMC's marathon of season 2 enjoyed enjoying it. Damn, I almost forgot how bad Lori's lines in the show are...anyways, I figured I'd drop chapter 2 of this fic on the day following Shane's final episode. ;) Enjoy the chapter friends.

Fear could be defined in many ways. One could say fear is an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat, while another could argue it's instead simply to be be afraid of someone or something.

However you wanted to define fear, there was no denying that it was the best way to describe the emotions running though Shane Walsh right now. 

Of course, fear was somewhat of an unfamiliar emotion for the veteran officer, yet Shane couldn't help but shiver, feeling goosebumps on his muscular arms. Shane had been out for...well, he didn't even know how long, and had awoken to a deathly silent hospital. If there was anyone who'd be perfectly calm in this situation, Shane would've wanted to ask them if they were goddamn insane.

Still getting his energy back, Shane's trek to the bathroom wasn't as fast as he'd have liked; the first thing the recovering man saw upon entering his personal washroom was not only how much his hair had grown in the time he'd been unconscious, but also the beginning of a beard forming on his chin."I gotta shave, cause I ain't likin' this beard too much," Shane dryly remarked, making note to himself to take care of his face when he got home.

Looking around the bathroom, Shane found a small paper cup, presumably for swallowing pills or medicine, laying in the middle of the sink. "Huh, that's convenient. Well, I am pretty freakin' thirsty," Shane said, pouring himself water to cure his dehydration. The water was ice cold. but just the feeling of the tasty liquid running down his throat was enough to make the man smirk, satisfied.

As quickly as Shane's smirk appeared, though, it faded into a neutral look for the newly-awakened man. "Alright, this is creepy. Damn hospital seems like it's dead. I need to get the hell out of here and find Rick, I bet he can explain what's goin' on."

Stumbling, Shane made his way to the door, noticing that the water had done its job; Shane felt his strength coming back, even if it wasn't at one hundred percent. "The hell is that in front of the door?" Shane wondered, seeing something sticking out at the room's exit. "'That a gurney? Why would one of those be blockin' my door?"

 _Maybe Rick put it there? Nah, that's stupid_ , Shane said to himself, pushing the gurney out of the way and stepping outside. As the officer slowly started to ease up, thinking that the deathly silence would only be a resident of his room, what awaited Shane was enough to make his blood run cold.

Puddles of crimson blood stained the floor and walls, leaving remnants of what seemed like a battle. Papers lay all over, torn and ripped with no regard. Electrical cords, which were supposed to be safely tied into one another above the corridor, hung from the ceiling, letting sparks fly to the ground. Whatever lights remained on flickered, as if a mysterious, hidden individual was turning them on and off to appease his boredom.

In the past, the hallways of Harrison Memorial Hospital were always jam packed with nurses scrambling to their patients, aides bringing the resting patients food and drinks, and families praying that their loved ones would make it. Nurses had often remarked to Shane, normally when he was flirting with them, that the only time Harrison's hallways were calm was when they built the hospital over sixty years ago.

So for Shane to see the hallway deserted, looking like a hurricane had swept through and taken every soul with it, that horrific feeling of fear returned. What could have happened in such a short amount of time that made the hospital look like it'd be in the middle of a war? Shane had never seen anything like this, such desolation and destruction in a safe place like a hospital.

One would think that after meth labs, biker bars, and the occasional janky drug dealer who'd come at him with a rusty switchblade, Shane would have learned to expect the unexpected, but this was too much. "Man, this is brutal," Shane whispered, forcing himself to continue walking amid the ruins. As Shane walked past a deserted nurse's desk, taking note of the fact that it, like everywhere else in this godforsaken hospital, was abandoned. "What, did everyone take a break at the exact same time!?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Shane located a telephone...that was disconnected, the plug hanging over the table. "Unbelievable. The FUCK has happened? Whole hospital done went to shit, huh?"

Shane continued walking, still at a slow pace, before stopping in front of a set of doors.

DON'T DEAD

OPEN INSIDE

"Don't Dead, Open Inside? Wait, what does that mean? No, it's Don't Open, Dead Inside. What the fuck?" Shane asked himself, just to make sure he hadn't misread it. "Why not just call it a morgue?"

Shane continued to walk, desperate to get the hell out of this hellhole. Finally finding the staircase, Shane kicked open the door with the strength of an NFL punter and immediately covered his nose, choking at the stench of death. "Ugh, the hell is down here? Mice shit in month old wool socks?" Shane whispered, almost giving into his desire to bend over and throw up.

But, Shane would never allow himself such a fate -- he was a man's man, a warrior, and so the former patient kept going. As Shane exited Harrison Memorial Hospital, he savored the ability to see light again. Sure, there was still a putrid smell of decaying death, but at least Shane could see. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and...

"The grass looks uncut, bodies wrapped up, more blood," Shane observed, sighing. Did Shane even want to know at this point what had gone at Harrison Memorial? "Man, I guess whoever took off inside decided to quit working outside too.

Shane continued to walk, noticing a parked military helicopter surrounded by police barracks. Dark, crimson blood stained the chopper's sleek black frame, and the glass was cracked; unless Shane was seeing things wrong, it looked like even a bit of skin was on the glass from the inside of the helicopter, but why would that be? Noticing what seemed to be rust on the chopper's control panel, Shane wondered just how long it'd been since someone had taken the chopper for a ride.

It wasn't just the helicopter that wasn't in any shape to be used either. Military Jeeps were either out of commission entirely, crashed into walls and trees, or completely abandoned. The parking lot was full, but Shane could already see a bit of rust and decay on the parked vehicles spread across the lot.

"I guess I'll walk for now," Shane said, and without any other means of transportation, walk he did. Slowly, Shane walked through the town, amazed at how dead it seemed. Birds may have been chirping, but the town seemed empty, like everyone had taken a vacation all at once. Everywhere Shane looked was blood -- on the ground, on cars, even painting the sleek, silver guardrails on the side of the road. 

Suddenly, Shane heard a loud growl from behind him. Startled by the noise, the officer turned around, only to lock eyes with a beast unlike he'd ever encountered. Laying prone on the ground, somehow still alive, was what appeared to be a female skeleton, but the skeleton was...moving.

"AH, what the FUCK are you?" Shane screamed, jumping back in horror. Instinctively, the officer reached to his back pocket for his handgun, groaning when he remembered the pistol was gone, probably in the hands of Rick.

The...whatever it was, growled at Shane, lazily lifting its arm at the officer. Tears welled up in Shane's eyes at the sight of this monster, and monster may not even have been a good enough term to describe it; this poor _abomination_ had lost the bottom half of its body, and Shane could even see her internal organs dragging across the ground.

For a slight moment, Shane locked eyes with the abomination, and he could hear a noise akin to a cry escape from the beast's mouth. Raising her (at least, Shane thought it was a female) arm again in a futile try to grab Shane, the beast let out another groan, hungry for the confused man's blood and flesh.

Hyperventilating, Shane jumped on the nearby bike and began to pedal, desperate to find out just what was going on...

* * *

 As Shane pedaled his way into King County, his feeling of dread and fear returned upon seeing the emptiness of the streets. Now, it wasn't as if King County was Atlanta or Savannah, or even Macon where the population was relatively high, but to see his hometown so quiet and desolate was not like anything he'd ever saw before.

There were no kids playing in the street, or tired parents sitting on their porches with a lit cigarette in their mouth. There were no sounds of cars, planes, or motorcycles; no smell of Mr. White's cooking, or the loud rap music of teenagers. There was nothing, and Shane was unnerved; this wasn't his home, the home he'd made for himself after years of living in Georgia. 

"Looks like the 'vacation' has extended to King County too," Shane muttered, sighing. Shane had learned long ago not to be naive, but there was a small part of him that believed once he returned home, it'd all be normal. Rick and Carl, Shane's 'family' at this point, would come running out to greet him, while Lori would have some fresh food cooked and on a platter.

"Everett Street, home. Least it was before everything seemed to get fucked up."

Stopping the bike short, Shane jumped off and stared at his house, the building he hadn't seen in presumably weeks. The small, white building was exactly as he left it - the grill was out in front, and a signed football sat on the glass table next to it.

Opening the door, Shane was relieved to see that the house hadn't been ransacked or attacked during his hospital stay. Having lived alone for many years, Shane wasn't surprised to see his house completely quiet either; in fact, it was the one thing so far that actually seemed normal to him. The beer cans were still strewed over the counter, his old football jersey framed on the wall, a signed Atlanta Falcons football jersey next to that…

What immediately caught Shane's attention, though, was the missing photo of him and Rick on a fishing trip from a couple years prior. It had been a perfect, late-summer day, right before Carl had returned to school, and Rick and Shane had spent the entire day sitting on a boat, drinking beer and eventually falling into the water.

"'Bet Rick took it, since there ain't no point in stealing pictures," Shane told himself, gingerly making the trek upstairs. It seemed that Shane using so much energy immediately after waking up from his coma was starting to affect him, as the officer quietly remarked, "Ow," after each step.

"Gotta change out these hospital clothes, get myself in something comfortable," Shane said, beginning to strip from the itchy gear Harrison Memorial Hospital had provided him during his stay. Luckily, all of Shane's wardrobe remained exactly as he'd left it. "Any of this is better than the damn gown."

After trying on clothes for the first time in weeks, Shane eventually decided on a sheriff's department baseball hat, a black t shirt, and jeans; it wasn't anything special, but it was definitely better than the hospital gown. "Better get to Rick's, see if there's anything he left for me," the officer said, before an idea popped into his head. "Now that I think about it…"

Crouching, Shane lifted up a plank in the floor...and pulled out a Beretta 92FS pistol. The Sheriff's Deputy smirked at the reflective glare from the black handgun, feeling safer to have a means of protection at long last. If Shane was going to encounter any more of those abominations, then he wanted to make sure he wouldn't end up like the bicycle skeleton.

"And to think Rick was so against me hiding the gun there," Shane chuckled. It felt like just yesterday that Shane had brought home a spare gun from the station with the intention of keeping it hidden in his room, and Rick had spent a thirty minutes lecturing him about the safety of keeping again that close.

"Don't forget to keep a round in the chamber and the safety on, Shane," Rick had told him as his friend paced around the room, trying to find the best spot to hide the pistol in case of an emergency. "I'm serious, man, you shouldn't be doing this. Besides, I don't want you to be messin' around with that gun and get yourself in any trouble, you know what I mean?"

Digging through his closet one last time, the cop grabbed a picture of him, Rick, and Carl that had been taken right before Shane's shooting. Glancing at the photo, Shane grimaced at seeing how clean cut he looked in the picture, compared to the longer hair and unshaven beard he displayed now; it'd been when Shane last had his head shaved, a popular style for the man before he went back to growing what Carl had called the 'Shane-fro' out.

Placing the picture in his jeans pocket, Shane made his way back downstairs. "After I find Rick, I'm getting a shower and a shave. I can't keep going like this," the cop muttered to himself, walking outside and walking across the street to Rick's house. That had been something both cops had wanted when they started looking for houses all those years ago - to be right near one another, just in case they needed each other.

"Rick?" Shane asked, knocking on the door. When he heard no reply, the man tried again, putting more force into it. Again, there was no response.

"RICK!" Shane shouted, kicking the door open. Like Shane's house, Rick's place was dead quiet; unlike Shane's house, though, Rick's place had been fully cleared out, the picture frames empty and valuable items taken straight off the wall.

"RICK! CARL!" Shane yelled, searching all over for his best friend and son. Rick's former partner walked through the house, keeping a hand on his concealed pistol. Everything that Lori and Rick had treasured seemed to have been picked clean out of the house, and it worried Shane greatly. Had the Grimes' house been robbed?

Walking into the kitchen, Shane noticed a small note on the door. It appeared to be hastily written, but Shane would recognize Rick's messy handwriting anywhere. Pulling the note closer, Shane began to read it.

_Shane,_

_If you wake up and you're reading this, thank God, man. I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you when you woke up, shit just got too outta control. Plague of some sorts hit, and the dead are walking...it's something out of a nightmare. I don't know what's happened, or what caused it to happen, but I took Lori and Carl to Atlanta, couldn't keep 'em out here anymore. There's supposedly a refugee zone in the city, set up by FEMA and the government...it's safe there. Some people were talking about the disease place, the CDC, but the refugee zone sounds like our best bet._

_The three of us are about to leave for the city, but I wanted to leave this for you, as a just in case...and me being optimistic. I couldn't stay in King County any longer, man, not with Carl and Lori. Carl's been freaking out, trying to find a way to understand what's going on, but I can't explain it to him. Lori, she ain't much better, but it seems like she trusts me..._

_Normal rules suspended for foreseeable future, so I have no idea if the precinct would still have anything left...though, I did something to help you out. In my locker, there are some supplies I left for you - I figured that if you woke up, you'd try to come here and find me. Only us two know the combo, so it should still be there..._

_If this isn't Shane, then I wish you the best of luck. Leave this here, just in case my friend Shane sees it. Guy's tough, he'll find a way to beat that coma._

_God speed, brother, may our paths cross once again._

_\- Rick Grimes_

After reading the quickly-scribbled note, Shane wiped a tear from his eye. Even in a time of panic, Rick had still found a way to help his best friend, his brother. "The precinct, huh? Guess that's where I'm goin'," Shane said, turning from the Grimes house for what would possibly be the last time. "After that, it looks like I'm off to Atlanta. Thanks, Rick. I owe you."

Suddenly, Shane heard a nearby growl that sent chills down his neck. Turning, Shane saw another of the abominations, but this one wasn't in as bad shape as the one near the bicycle; this one was bald, with dried blood around his mouth and bright, yellow, eyes that seemed to drive daggers into Shane; its jaw moved up and down, seemingly hungry to take a bite out of Shane's skin.

Though this abomination may have been like the first one -- the bicycle girl -- that Shane had encountered, this one could _move_ , and it was approaching the Sheriff's Deputy at a quick pace. In fact, if Shane hadn't snapped out of his initial shock, it's likely the creature would have taken him down, and his life with him.

"GAH!" Shane cried as the bald man drew closer, clawing in an attempt to hurt its prey. For a brief second, Shane wondered if he should punch the monster in its jaw, but something told him that'd likely turn out not to be a good idea.

So, Shane did the next best thing. Locking eyes with the bloody man, whose once-cerulean eyes had turned a duller shade, Shane aimed the gun at his head, and pulled the trigger.

SPLAT!

There was a reason Shane kept the Beretta hidden in case of emergencies - if he actually needed it, then it was there and it could pack a punch. Before the abomination even knew what his prey had just done, the bullet traveled through the pale man's forehead, spilling brain and blood out onto the street. Falling backwards, the suit-clad monster collapsed, dropping like a ton of bricks onto the dirty road beneath it. 

Breathing heavily, Shane nearly threw up at the sight of the dead monster. The abomination's eyes were still wide open, and it had a look of terror on its face. Shane may have spoke a big game, but killing something was never easy, even if they were trying to end his own life.

"The hell you doing firing that gun, son?"

Shane turned around to see...actual humans beings, it seemed. In fact, the newcomers were two breathing, living, human beings; one of whom had his revolver raised at Shane. Both of these new people were black, and the younger one, who Shane assumed wasn't much older than Carl, tightly held a shovel in his small hands.

"This...thing was trying to bite me, so I had to put it down," Shane answered, raising his own pistol at the two. The normally crowded and loud street was quiet again, with the only noise being the sound of both guns waving in their owners' hands.

"Who are you? I haven't seen you around here before," Shane said, narrowing his eyes at the black man. The two kept their guns trained on one another, almost daring the other to take the shot.

"Name's Morgan Jones, and this is my son, Duane," Morgan nodded to his young son, and Shane noted the similarities between the two. Morgan seemed to be around Shane's age, maybe a year or two older, and he protectively brought his son closer to him. "I haven't seen you around here, either, and I've been here for a bit. You come to check the town for supplies?"

Shane raised an eyebrow. "Loot supplies? Nah, I just got out of the hospital and found it was dead empty. Went back home for a bit, changed clothes and got my gun so I could defend myself from these monsters. I tried to come back here to my best friend's house, see if I could find him, his wife, and his kid, but this damn place is a ghost town. The name's Shane Walsh, by the way."

"Hospital? For what?" Morgan inquired, tightening his hold on the gun. "You get bit!? Best tell me, son, or I will end your life. Don't lie to me."

"Bit? No, was shot a while back and was in the hospital. I woke up at the same time everyone else was taking a nap, I guess," Shane revealed, wondering what the man meant by bit. Was that how that...demon… from the park ended up the way she did? "All I'm trying to do, Morgan, is find out what the hell is going on. I got my supplies and what I need, but now I'm trying to see if I can find my friend and his family"

"Hmm, so you really weren't bit?" Morgan asked, skeptical. "That's...that's a relief. The last time people were around here, one of 'em was bit and…"

Morgan trailed off, but lowered his gun. "Listen, how about you follow me back inside? I got food, water, clothes; all the shit you won't find in any of these other houses. I'll even help you change that bandage if you need me to. Besides, they're all gonna be coming here soon once they hear the noises. Hell, they may already have heard us."

Shane nodded, presuming Morgan's allusion to 'they're' meant whatever these things were. "Lead the way."

* * *

"Shane, was it? It's good to see a survivor, and one not bit, at that. Sorry about getting all trigger happy before; that's just the way things are now, man. I gotta protect my kid, you know?" Morgan said, putting his arm around Duane. The three had settled back into the house Morgan had taken up residency in, and Shane had to admire the job his new comrade had done to protect this place.

The windows and doors were boarded up, enough to the point where even a fully trained SWAT team would have trouble breaking in. Morgan had also begun preparing traps, just in case someone were to break in and attempt looting the place. 

"Yeah, I hear you. My buddy Rick, he's the exact same way. He's all protective of his son Carl, trying to make sure nothing happens to him," related Shane, chuckling. "So, ya'll from around here? This ain't your place, I know that much."

"What can I say? We just moved in," grinned Morgan, feeling surprisingly at ease around the veteran officer. "Duane and I, we found this place empty. No pictures, no nothing."

"Guess people like taking pictures with them during emergencies. Seen it during fires and crap," Shane recalled, getting comfortable on the chair Morgan had provided for him. The man's body still ached badly, but Morgan had done his best to help Shane feel slightly better.

"Fires? You fought fires?" Morgan questioned, and Shane could see Duane's head pop up in interest. "Took ya as a fire fighter when I saw how muscular ya were."

"Nah, I was a cop. I had to go into burning buildings occasionally, but never had to put 'em out," explained Shane, grabbing his police hat and flashing it in Morgan and Duane's direction. "Sometimes, guy may try to set the building on fire, take us all down with 'em, ya know?"

"A cop? I guess in the frenzy of trying to figure out what was up with you and to make sure you weren't bit, we didn't notice your police hat." Morgan quietly laughed, smirking at Duane's embarrassed look. "Heh, and to think Duane thought you robbed banks!"

"Hah! I'll have to remember that one. They call me Shane Dillinger! So, mind explaining to me just what the hell is going on?" Shane questioned, finding it an opportune time to pop the question. Shane couldn't stay in the dark forever, and Morgan seemed to be just the man to tell the cop about what happened. "What is this? What happened here? Rick mentioned some kind of plague and the dead walking, but I didn't know if he was overreacting or not."

Morgan took a deep breath, sighing. "No, your friend was telling the truth. A couple months ago, these things...I don't know, it could be a plague, virus, biological warfare, whatever, it started making the dead walk again. It all happened really quickly, and within maybe two, three, weeks, it was full bore apocalypse. People looting, raiding, just trying to find some kind of save haven. Then, the radio, TV, law enforcement, it all just shut down. Some reporter, she called them walkers on the last radio broadcast I heard. That was a couple weeks ago..."

"Walkers?" Shane asked, his throat suddenly dry. If Morgan wasn't bullshitting, which he didn't seem to be, then everything he knew from the old world was gone. In just a couple of months, the world truly had gone to shit; Shane then wondered to himself how much of humanity was even left if things had gotten that bad that quickly.

"Yeah, cause they don't run. They just walk, sometimes kinda fast, but walk," explained Morgan, rubbing a hand through his hair. "They get more active after dark sometimes. Maybe it's the cool air or hell, maybe it's just the gun shots from earlier. But we'll be fine as long as we stay quiet. Probably wander off by morning. But listen, one thing I do know – don't you get bit. Bites kill you. The fever burns you out. But then after a while…you come back."

"So, that's why you asked if I got bit," deduced Shane, getting an affirmative nod from both Morgan and Duane. "Smart move. Had I been in your spot, I'd have done the same."

"It's something in the bite that makes you turn," supplied Duane. "We've seen it happen before."

Reaching for a can of flat soda that Duane had retrieved from the pantry, Shane thought back to his departure from the hospital. "When I was leaving Harrison Memorial today, I saw a lot of the dead out on the loading dock, piled in trucks. Looked like most of 'em were shot up to hell."

"When it all started, no one knew what to do or how to stop them. Even in the evacuations, all we knew was that it was something in the brain, but not many of us were equipped to stop a walker coming at us," Morgan said, pain evident on his face from the memories. "We were headed to Atlanta. Things got crazy. Man, you wouldn't believe the panic. Streets weren't fit to be on. It was like a great migration of the dazed and confused. And then my...my wife couldn't travel. No, not with her hurt. So we had to find a place to lay low."

"Got hurt?" Shane questioned, before the realization settled in. "You mean…?"

The sudden blaring noise of a car alarm silenced Morgan before he could reply, causing all three members of the house to direct their heads to the walls. Instinctively, Shane grabbed his pistol and held it close to him, ready to protect himself and the Jones family.

"Goddamn walkers. Everyone, stay quiet and don't do anything that'll cause noise," ordered Morgan, reaching for his gun as a precaution. "Just be quiet, alright, they're not gonna get in if we don't give them a reason to know we're here."

Out of nowhere, Duane gasped, nearly falling onto the hard wooden floor. "Daddy, she's here!"

One walker in particular, a dark-skinned woman wearing a ratty white gown and her hair disheveled, had approached the door and looked in through the peephole, apparently trying to get into the house. The woman, unlike the other walkers Shane had encountered prior, looked fairly normal; of course, that was before the officer noticed the dried blood on her neck and arms.

"It's okay. Here, cry into the pillow," Morgan quietly told his son. "Do you remember? Shh shh."

Shane stared at the dead woman, who raised her head to meet the officer's. "She, um… She died in that other room on that bed in there. There was nothing I – I could do about it. That fever, man, her skin gave off heat like a furnace," Morgan admitted, pausing to console his now crying son. "I should've – I should've put her down, man. I should've put her down. I know that, but I...you know what? I just didn't have it in me. She's the mother of my child."

Once Morgan's wife stopped turning the knob, her widowed husband and Shane both gave sighs of relief. "Shit, that's the third time in the last couple days she's done that...it's like she remembers. Listen, Shane, I think we should go to bed. We have an extra sleeping bag, so if you want, you can just take that into the guest room. Not trying to call curfew or anything, but just making a suggestion since you seem pretty tired."

"That's fine," Shane agreed, taking the bag from Morgan. Right now, getting some sleep seemed like a great option; though he hadn't been awake too long, Shane could feel his strength leaving him by the minute. "You two have a nice, safe, night. If you need anything, tell me."

Morgan sadly smiled and placed his hand on Shane's shoulder. "Understood, Shane, thank you," the man said softly, looking at the boarded-up door once again and likely thinking about his late wife. "We'll talk in the morning. Ya take care of yourself tonight."

* * *

_"SHANE!"_

_""No no no no no no. Shh shh shh shh. No no no no no no no no. He's hit!"_

_"Rick?" Shane said weakly, trying to locate where his friend's voice was coming from. Like when he'd awoken from his coma, Shane's vision was blurry and he could only make out the damaged silhouettes of those around him._

_"Leon! You get that ambulance down here! You tell them there's an officer down!"_

_"Rick, what the hell, man?" Shane questioned, doing his best to get up and find where said officer was, but the black-haired man couldn't move. Gravity held Shane down, his back sore as what felt like a rocky, unpaved road pushed up against him._

_"You stay with me. You hear me? Shh shh shh. Okay. I'm right here, Shane. Stay with me. You hear me? Shh shh. That's it. Do you hear me? Shh shh shh. Okay. I'm right here with you. Stay with me."_

_Suddenly, Rick fully came into view. Gone was the familiar face Shane had known his whole life, instead replaced by one drenched in blood and pain. Rick's nose was busted, and his teeth were a nasty shade of yellow; his eyes...there was not a sense of familiarity left in them, instead vacant; just like the walkers Shane had seen earlier._

_"STAY WITH ME!"_

* * *

As Shane ate breakfast with Morgan and Duane, he couldn't get his mind off of the previous night's dream. Was that Rick...as a walker? No, it couldn't have been. Rick wouldn't have let himself turn into one of those...

"You look bad, Shane, like you ain't get a good night of sleep," Duane said, snapping Shane from his deep thinking. The cop looked up to see his new friend's son reaching for his glass of water, unknown that Shane wasn't even paying attention.

Morgan glared at Duane. "What the hell was that out of your mouth just now?" 

Duane sighed. "You look bad, Shane, like you didn't get a good night of sleep," the boy muttered under his breath. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's good, kiddo, just tired," Shane replied, which wasn't  _entirely_ a lie. Waking up in a nightmare like this and expecting to have a sound, peaceful sleep was impossible, especially when you kept dreaming about your best friend turning into a flesh-eating demon that wanted nothing more to devour you whole. "Yesterday was tough, Duane -- I woke up expecting to see my best friend, but all I found -- other than you two fine people -- was a world that got turned upside-down."

"I'm sorry about that, Shane," Morgan consoled, sympathetic for the man he was quickly coming to call a friend. "So, what's next for you? You've been quiet, and it's making me think that you're trying to figure out your next move."

Shane's reply was blunt. "I'm thinking about heading out to Atlanta. Rick and his family are there, and at this point, they're really all I have left. When I went to their house to see if Rick was there, he left a note that said he'd taken Lori, his wife, and their son Carl to the big city. I figure that's as good a place as any to go. I'm gonna stop at the police precinct on the way, grab some supplies in case I run into any more of those...walkers...and then make my way to Atlanta."

Morgan bit his lip, as if he was thinking of the right way to reply to Shane. "Son, do you really think Atlanta is worth it? When we tried to go, it was a mess of people trying to flood in," Morgan recalled, trying not to think of his now-deceased wife getting hurt on the way. "I know that there was some major refugee site set up, but how do we know it's still there?"

"It's gotta be safe. Standard police protocol would be to move people to a big city if there was some kind of threat or hazard. Knowing Rick, he'd be there even if the threat ended, just so he could help people out," laughed Shane, before going quiet.

"Morgan, man, listen. I want you and Duane to come with me. There's safety in numbers, and I don't want to leave you guys back here," Shane said, taking the Jones duo by surprise. "Ya'll good people, good enough that I trust you to come with me. You can't stay here, not with Duane, man. It's not safe."

"I appreciate it, Shane, and you're a good man," Morgan replied, his voice shaking at the kindness shown his way by a man that he'd expected to have left by now. Despite the rough exterior he put on, Morgan had figured out within a few minutes of knowing him that Shane was a good man deep down -- the cop's priority seemed to be not his safety, but Rick and his family. "But tell me something. You've only seen this shit for a day, and you're ready to go find your best friend and his family. You're sure Duane and I wouldn't be a burden on you? He can't shoot, and I'm still a bit rusty."

Even with the severity of the situation, Shane still found it in himself to smirk. "Morgan, I didn't say I trusted you to bullshit you. Believe me, it's all good. You're smart, and I feel safer bringing you guys into Atlanta with me."

Morgan took a second to ponder, stroking the stubble around his chin. "Now, you mentioned a police precinct and getting supplies there. They got what we need? Food, clothes, weapons?"

Shane gave an affirmative nod. "All that, plus cars. It's gonna take some time to get into Atlanta, and I figure walking won't work too well. Man, we're told from the second we start at the academy to protect and serve, right? Well, this is me protecting and defending you and your boy."

Grinning, Morgan put his hand out over the table. "You got yourself a deal, Shane. I appreciate this a lot, man."

Shane firmly shook Morgan's hand. "Duane, Morgan, ya'll should start packing, cause _we're_ going to Atlanta."


End file.
